


Memories

by MusicalFangirl00193



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (It happens before the story starts, Amnesia, Do I still need to tag it?), I wrote this forever ago, M/M, Mentioned Major Character Death, Mpreg, Past and Present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalFangirl00193/pseuds/MusicalFangirl00193
Summary: Stever Rogers wakes up with no memories after putting his plane in the arctic. A lot has changed since then, the formation of the Avenger's team being only the smallest link in this chain. So now Steve has to navigate this mess that is his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was not beta read, all mistakes are my own.

Steve shot up in the bed, covered in a cold sweat. He looked around the room, taking stock. It was dim, not dark and the room was opulent, instantly causing Steve’s mistrust.

 

He stood up, quickly glancing down to see what he was wearing, sweats and a t-shirt, grabbed his shield that was leaning against the wall next to the door, and left the room, making his way down the bright white hall.

 

Steve came to the end of the hall, finding a series of couches facing a wall and a half wall separated the couches from the kitchen. One wall was made of glass. It was dark outside. Steve went to the kitchen, grabbing a sack and stuffing it with food before trying to locate the exit.

 

Before he could find the exit a boy about 10 years old, came into the kitchen. “Hey Pop,” the boy said, getting a glass of water.

 

“Where am I?” Steve growled, adjusting his hold on the shield.

 

The boy lowered his glass. “Pop?”

 

“Where am I?” Steve asked again. “Where are my men?”

 

“JARVIS, will you get Dad please? And Uncle Bruce,” the boy asked the ceiling, “Something’s wrong with Pop.”

 

“Sir and Dr. Banner are on their way,” a British accented voice came from nowhere.

 

“Peter?” A man’s voice came from a hall he hadn’t noticed before. “What’s wrong? I was working on Dummy’s upgrades and you’re supposed to be in bed.”

 

“I think something’s wrong with Pop,” the boy, Peter, said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

 

“I told you we should have taken him to SHIELD medical,” another man’s voice said.

 

Two men came into the kitchen, one wearing jeans and a t-shirt, the other wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt.

 

“Steve, are you okay?” the one in sleep pants asked.

 

“Where am I? Where are my men? Who are you?” Steve was really hoping he would get a real answer.

 

“There was a battle in the city. You took a blow to the head. What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

“The plane was going down. I had to put it in the water.”

 

The two men exchanged meaningful looks. “Peter,” the one in jeans, said, “Go to your room.”

 

“But what about-?”

 

“Now,” the man repeated.

 

Peter left the room reluctantly. “Night Pop,” he said, waving to Steve.

 

“Would you like to take a seat?” the man in sleep pants asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

 

“If we’re having this discussion now, I’m going to need coffee, and maybe something stronger,” he said, heading into the living room.

 

“Tony,” the seated man said, as if they had talked about this.

 

“I know, I know,” Tony said, holding up his hands and changing his course. “Just coffee.”

 

“Good,” the man said before turning back to Steve. “I’m Bruce Banner, he’s Tony Stark.”

 

“Any relation to Howard Stark?” Steve asked, looking at Tony.

 

“My father,” Tony said, focusing on the coffee maker.

 

“How is he?” Steve asked.

 

“Dead,” Tony said blandly. “It was years ago. I made my peace with it. I was just a kid.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said, “What about Peggy? And Bucky?”

 

“Peggy passed when Peter was a baby,” Bruce said, gesturing after the boy. “Bucky’s around here somewhere. JARVIS, can you get Bucky please?”

 

“Yes Doctor,” the voice in the ceiling said.

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That’s JARVIS,” Bruce said, “He runs the house…and stuff. So, what do you want to know first?”

 

“Were am I?”

 

“Stark Tower, top floor, New York City.”

 

“My men?”

 

“Dead,” Bruce said. “They all survived the war. Led good lives.”

 

“Who was the boy?”

 

“Peter Stark-Rogers.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Stark-Rogers?”

 

“Your’s and Tony’s son. He’s 10.”

 

“Mine and Tony’s?”

 

Bruce rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

 

Steve turned to Tony, who had set down between him and Bruce. “We have a son?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said with a chuckle. “Shock for the whole team.”

 

“Team?”

 

“You wouldn’t remember them,” Tony pulled a device out of his pocket and showed it to Steve after poking at it for a second, pointing out all the people and naming them. Steve flipped through the pictures.

 

“How much time did I lose?” Steve asked.

 

Tony thought for a moment. “At least twelve conscious years. But there was the 70 years in the ice,” he said. “That sounds about right. JARVIS?”

 

“12 years, six months, and three days, Sir,” JARVIS said.

 

“Exact much?” Tony asked rhetorically.

 

“It is my job Sir.”

 

Tony stuck his tongue out at the ceiling as Bucky came into the room.

 

A tension that he hadn’t noticed flooded from Steve’s shoulders.

 

“Buck,” he breathed, relieved to see someone he recognized.

 

“I’m going back down to the lab,” Tony said stiffly, standing and almost running from the room.

 

“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Bruce said, leaving the room. “You have Steve?”

 

Bucky nodded, “I have for years.”

 

Bruce nodded absentmindedly, leaving the room.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Steve asked.

 

“Tony or Bruce?” Bucky asked.

 

Steve gave him a look.

 

“Tony just needs time to cool down. He’ll be fine by morning. So did you really forget everything after the ice?”

 

Steve nodded.

 

Bucky whistled, pulling out a chair and sitting in it backwards. “I’ll fill you in on what I can, but some of it isn’t my story to tell.”

 

…

 

“Pop?” Peter’s voice came from the doorway of the gym. “Are you okay?”

 

Steve stopped the punching bag. “I’m fine Peter,” he said, looking at the boy.

 

“You’re lying,” Peter said, shocked. “You never lie to me.” Peter looked scared. “You aren’t my Poppa.” He turned and ran out of the room.

 

Steve groaned, hitting the bag so hard it bust open. “JARVIS?”

 

“Peter has gone to his room and locked himself in,” JARVIS said. “I suggest you go talk to him. And Captain Rogers, you should tell him the truth.”

 

Steve might have taken offence to the suggestion from the invisible voice, but it was a good one, so Steve followed it, heading up to what JARVIS indicated was Peter’s room.

 

“Peter?” Steve called, knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”

 

Steve heard shuffling, then was almost deafened by the music that Peter tuned on full blast. He sighed and sat down, leaning against the wall. He was going to talk to Peter. Steve may not remember him, but the boy that was angry at him, the boy in that room right now, was his _son_. Steve had grown up without a father, he wasn’t going to do that to his son.

 

…

 

“Was he there all night?”

 

Steve was groggy, but he had been listening for Peter.

 

“When you turned on the music, Captain Rogers sat down out here, he nodded off after an hour.”

 

Peter sighed and poked at Steve with his toe. “Cap, wake up.”

 

Steve sat up, stretching. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s morning. 7:05. I’m heading out to school,” Peter said, backing up.

 

“We need to talk when you get home,” Steve said, standing up.

 

“Fine, whatever,” Peter said, going the other direction down the hall.

 

Steve sighed again, going to search out Tony and breakfast. Maybe not in that order.

 

…

 

“What did you do to Peter?” Tony demanded, storming into the kitchen.

 

Steve glanced up from the stove. “What?”

 

“What,” Tony growled, “Did you do to Peter?”

 

“I tried to talk to him last night. I think I upset him.”

 

Tony groaned. “You didn’t lie to him, did you?”

 

Steve winced, “It was a little white lie, I didn’t know he would…”

 

“We didn’t tell him quite a few things when he was younger. He found out…roughly when he was eight. So we don’t lie anymore. You never really lied before then anyways, so…” Tony trailed off with a bitter laugh. “Peter’s never taken to change well.”

 

Steve nodded, dishing up two plates, and pouring two cups of coffee, giving one of each to Tony and sitting across from him. “So what do I do?” Steve asked.

 

“Tell him the truth,” Tony said with a shrug, taking a long pull from his coffee. “You probably should get to know Wade too, it’d probably help.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow, “Wade?”

 

“Wade Wilson, Peter’s best friend. They’re complete opposites, but they make it work.”

 

Steve sat quietly, picking at his breakfast. “I didn’t mean to upset him,” Steve eventually said. “I’m trying Tony, I really am.”

 

“I know you are,” Tony said, resting a hand on top of Steve’s. “Go talk to Bucky. But make sure you knock. He got Bruce out of the lab last night. They might be busy, if you know what I mean.”

 

Steve blushed as he put his dishes in the dishwasher, and headed out of the room. Tony caught Steve’s arm as he was leaving. “Hey,” he said gently, “I love you.” Tony pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Just remember that.”

 

Steve smiled, “Thanks Tony.”

 

…

 

“You’re Wade?” Steve asked, looking at the boy who opened Peter’s bedroom door.

 

“You’re Captain America,” Wade said with a shrug, “What do you want?”

 

“Can I talk to Peter please?”

 

Wade looked back into the room. “Pete?”

 

“Let him in,” Peter called from deeper in the room.

 

Wade opened the door wider, glaring at Steve as he entered. “Don’t hurt him,” Wade growled, slamming the door and heading back to Peter. Steve followed.

 

“Hey,” Wade said, sitting next to Peter.

 

Peter hummed, leaning into Wade. The two of them whispered to each other for a moment, Wade obviously not liking the way the conversation was going and Peter pleading.

 

“Fine,” Wade said eventually, throwing his arms in the air. “I’ll go get some snacks.”

 

“Thank you,” Peter said, kissing Wade on the cheek as he stood.

 

“10 minutes,” Wade said, kissing Peter on the forehead, “Then I’m coming back.”

 

Peter nodded, turning to face Steve. “Okay, what do you want?” Peter asked, his voice frosty and flat.

 

“To apologize,” Steve said. “I’m not the same person Peter. I’ve lost the last 12 years of my memories. I don’t know you, but I’d like to. I grew up without a dad, he died in World War I. I don’t want you to have to go through that.”

 

Peter looked down. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

 

“I don’t know. The serum was supposed to keep these kind of things from happening,” Steve said, “Tony told me the thing about lies. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Peter said, looking up at Steve. “What about you and Dad?”

 

Steve sighed. “I don’t know Peter,” he said. “Tony expects certain things of me, but I’m not sure I can meet his expectations.”

 

“Are you going to stay?” Peter asked in a small voice.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve said, burying his head in his hands. “I don’t know anyone here Peter, even Bucky’s different. Never thought I’d see him domesticated.”

 

“Have you met Danny yet?” Peter asked, pulling his knees to his chest.

 

Steve shook his head. “Who?”

 

Peter grinned, grabbing Steve’s hand as he stood. “Come on,” he said, pulling Steve along. They met Wade in the hallway.

 

“Where are you going?” Wade asked, loaded down with snacks.

 

“To see Danny,” Peter said, grabbing Wade’s hand.

 

Wade groaned.

 

“Hush you,” Peter said, leading them into the elevator.

 

They went down two floors and when the elevator door opened, Peter led them to a room. He peeked in before throwing the door open.

 

“Danny’s up!” he exclaimed, scooping the baby up from the crib. “His full name in Daniel Roger Banner-Barnes. He’s 11 months old.”

 

Steve smiled as the baby reached out for him. “’Teve! Unka ‘Teve!”

 

Peter looked at Steve, asking if he wanted to take the baby. Steve nodded, reaching for Danny.

 

“You were always his favorite,” Peter said, “Dad jokes that he likes you more than his dads.”

 

“So, who’s your favorite?” Steve asked between Danny’s attempts to take a header to the floor.

 

Peter got quiet. “Uncle Phil,” he said.

 

Steve got a flash of memory, a body of someone he knew, someone he cared about, once with a stab wound to the chest, and once again, covered in burns. “How long ago?”

 

“Six months,” Peter said, “He’s never going to meet his kids.”

 

Steve nodded, setting Danny on the floor he had been trying so hard to reach and wrapped his arms around Peter, who was shaking like a leaf in the wind. “It’ll be okay Peter,” he said, “I’m sure Phil wouldn’t want you to grieve this much.”

 

“He was saving me,” Peter mumbled, “It’s my fault, he was saving me. If I hadn’t been so stupid…”

 

“Peter,” Steve said sharply, “It wasn’t your fault. If it wasn’t you it would have been someone else and Phil would have gone in for anyone.”

 

Peter slumped against Steve. “Poppa…”

 

Steve kissed Peter on top of his head. “It’ll be okay Pete,” he said, gently rocking the crying 10 year old.

 

Wade came over and nudged Steve out of the way. “I’ll take care of him,” he muttered, “You deal with the baby.”

 

Steve nodded, looking around for Danny. “How did you get over here so quickly?” he muttered, picking Danny up. “You are going to get in so much trouble when you get older.”

 

“It’s the Avenger’s Children’s Initiative,” Bucky said, standing in the door. “Here, I’ll take my kid. You take care of yours.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve said, handing the baby to his father. “What should I do?”

 

“Take them out for ice cream,” Bucky said, taking Danny out of the room. “Dairy Queen.”

 

Steve nodded, going to Peter and Wade. “Do you guys want to go get some ice cream?”

 

Peter nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. “Dairy Queen?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile. “Get your jackets and let’s head out.”

 

…

 

“You were out late,” Tony said, sitting on the couch next to Steve.

 

“I upset Peter earlier, Phil. So we went to get ice cream and went people watching.”

 

Tony smiled softly, “That’s your and Peter’s thing, sometimes you would go and make a day of it. Just the two of you.”

 

Steve nodded, “It felt right.” He watched Tony for a moment. “Are you pregnant Tony?”

 

Tony stared for a moment before nodding. “10 weeks, no one but Bruce knows yet, Clint’s been having problems enough and I don’t want to do anything that would make him go back to where he was.”

 

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Steve asked, wrapping an arm around Tony.

 

Tony shivered, “The only thing keeping him from offing himself is the twins,” he said, snuggling into Steve’s side. “I’m worried about what he’s going to do after they’re born.”

 

Steve carded his hand through Tony’s hair, fingernails just scraping his scalp. “He’ll be fine,” Steve muttered, “We’ll watch him.”

 

Tony was quiet a moment. “We won’t be able to watch him close enough. That was Phil’s job.”

 

“We’ll do our best,” Steve said, “It’s all we can do. Now come on, it’s late, we should go to bed.”

 

Tony grumbled, but allowed Steve to urge him up and lead him to their bedroom. Steve settled Tony in the large bed, then paused, he wasn’t sure what to do.

 

“Steve,” Tony mumbled, reaching out for him, “Come on.”

 

Steve smiled and climbed into bed. Tony sighed happily and curled into Steve.

 

“You’re warm,” Tony muttered as he fell asleep.

 

…

 

“Woah,” Steve said, stopping Peter as he ran down the hall. “Where’s the fire?”

 

“Medical ward,” Peter panted, taking Steve’s wrist and running. “Clint went into labor.”

 

Steve followed Peter into the elevator and they went to the bottom floor of the Avenger’s living quarters.

 

“How is he?” Peter asked Tony, who was already in the designated ‘waiting room.’

 

“Bruce started the C-section,” Tony said, “It shouldn’t be too long.”

 

Peter nodded and sat next to Tony. “Do you think he’ll try to kill himself again?”

 

“No,” Steve and Tony said at the same time.

 

“He’ll be too busy with the twins to think about it,” Tony said. “They’ll need him.”

 

Steve wrapped an arm around Tony, reaching around to rest his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” Steve said softly.

 

The three of them sat in quiet, eventually joined by Pepper with Danny because Bucky and Natasha were helping Bruce with the surgery and Thor was still on Asgard.

 

Five minutes after Pepper joined them, a baby’s cry rang out, quickly followed by a second. A further 10 minutes later, Natasha came out and beckoned them in, her face stoic but her eyes smiling. “Two boys,” she said softly. “A bit on the small side, but both healthy.”

 

“What are their names?” Peter asked, trotting over to Clint, who was sitting in the bed and holding both babies.

 

“Ryan and Caleb,” Clint said, motioning to each in turn, using his head.

 

Peter looked at both babies. “Can I hold one?” he asked, his voice small.

 

Clint smiled, for the first time since Phil’s death. “Take a seat.”

 

Peter grinned back and climbed into the chair next to the bed. Clint carefully handed Caleb as Peter adjusted his arms to hold such a small baby.

 

“He’s smaller than Danny was,” Peter said, glancing at the one year old who was hanging on to his parents.

 

“That’s because there were two babies, not just one,” Clint said.

 

Peter nodded. “Dad?” he asked, looking over to Tony. “Will your baby be this small?”

 

Tony shook his head, “Probably not,” he said, “Only one.”

 

Everyone but Bruce and Steve stared at Tony. “You’re pregnant?” Pepper asked after a few minutes.

 

“Oops,” Tony said, “Hadn’t meant to tell you yet. I’m three months now.”

 

Pepper grinned at him. “I knew something was up.”

 

Tony laughed, hugging her.

 

Steve stood by the door, watching. This was a family. What right did Steve have, barging in and ruining the scene?

 

He quickly left the medical ward.

 

…

 

“Caleb’s middle name is Steven,” Tony said, standing in the open door of Steve’s studio. “Phil was the biggest Captain America fanboy there was.”

 

Steve looked up from the drawing he had been working on, but didn’t speak.

 

“Clint wondered where you went,” he said, coming over and looking at what Steve had been drawing. “You’re not gonna pull that when our kid’s born, are you?”

 

“I don’t fit in here,” Steve said softly, looking at the picture he had drawn. The whole page was black, except for a circle in the middle where a drawn Steve knelt, alone and soaked, his hands scarlet with blood.

 

“Is that how you see yourself?” Tony asked softly. “Alone? Covered in blood?”

 

“I’ve done things Tony,” Steve said softly, “Things I’m not proud of. I have 12 years of memories I don’t remember. What have I done that I don’t even remember?”

 

Tony left the room, coming back a minute later with a sketchbook. “This is what you’ve done the past 12 years,” he said, handing it to Steve. “Take a look.”

 

Steve opened the sketchbook. The inside had an inscription written in simple pencil.

 

‘ _To Tony, in my times of darkness, you are my greatest light.’_

After he stared at the inscription for a moment, Steve flipped through the sketchbook. It was filled with drawings of Tony, sometimes with others, sometimes alone, but all were drawn with obvious love and care. But what really drew Steve’s eye was the warm blue light that flooded from Tony’s chest.

 

Steve wasn’t surprised to realize he was crying. “I gave you this?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said, “You kept stealing it to add more though.”

 

Steve stared at the sketchbook in disbelief for a moment. “I’d never let anyone even look at my drawings before,” Steve said, “Let alone give them a sketchbook full. These things are like my diaries.”

 

“I know,” Tony said, leaning on Steve’s shoulder, “But you trusted me with this Steve, with this part of your heart. Can you trust me to help you?”

 

Steve watched Tony for a moment as Tony watched him. “Okay,” he said eventually. “I trust you.”

 

Tony grinned at Steve, pecking him on the lips. “Go to bed,” he said softly, “You’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

 

Steve nodded, closing the sketchbook and going to bed.

 

…

 

“What’s this for?” Steve asked as Tony put Caleb in his arms.

 

“Everyone in this Tower knows how to care for a baby except for you, so we’re going to change that.”

 

Steve gave Tony an odd look, but Caleb made a noise and drew Steve’s attention. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Steve said.

 

“Of course it is,” Tony said, handing Steve a bottle. “Now here, he’s hungry.”

 

…

 

“She’s beautiful,” Steve murmured, watching Tony with their newborn daughter. “What’s her name?”

 

“Sarah,” Tony said as Steve sat down, “Sarah Maria Stark-Rogers.”

 

Steve smiled, one finger running over Sarah’s cheek.

 

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asked quietly after a few minutes.

 

Steve glanced at his watch. “He should be on his way now. Natasha went to pick him up.”

 

Tony nodded, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Did we do this with Peter?” Steve asked softly.

 

“You were on a mission,” Tony said. “He was a preemie. When you got home he was still in an incubator.”

 

Steve pressed his lips to Tony’s temple. “It’ll be fine,” he said softly. “Sarah’s fine and we’re all here.”

 

Tony nodded sleepily, “Wake me when Peter gets here?”

 

“Of course,” Steve said, taking Sarah from Tony. “Now sleep, you need it.”

 

Tony made a soft noise and laid down, smiling at Steve before going to sleep.

 

Steve stayed in the chair for a while, watching Sarah and Tony sleep.

 

“Poppa?” Peter’s voice was small in the doorway.

 

“Hey Pete,” Steve said, smiling at his son. “Come meet your sister.”

 

Peter came over and looked down at his sister. “What’s her name?” he asked softly.

 

“Sarah,” Steve said, “Sarah Maria.”

 

“Can I hold her?”

 

“If you come up here and sit with me,” Tony said, having just woken up.

 

Peter looked to Steve, who nodded. He carefully clambered into the bed next to Tony before turning back to Steve and giving him puppy dog eyes. Steve laughed and handed Sarah to Peter.

Steve sat back in the chair and watched the three of them, his family. He felt a sharp pain behind his eyes and everything went black.

 

…

 

“Steve, Steve come on, don’t do this to us again.”

 

Steve groaned and opened his eyes. “Bruce? What’s going on?”

 

“At least he remembers who you are this time,” Tony muttered from somewhere behind Bruce.

 

Steve rolled his eyes, instantly regretting the action because of the spike of pain it sent through his head.

 

“Poppa?” Peter asked, causing Steve to look over at him.

 

“Hey Spidy,” Steve said, “What’s going on?”

 

Peter grinned so widely at the nickname that his face almost split in two, throwing himself at Steve in a hug. “You remember,” Peter said, laughing and crying at the same time.

 

“What’s the last thing you remember Steve?” Bruce asked.

 

“A battle, Doom and Amora,” Steve said, working to calm Peter.

 

“Seven months for 12 years, better than last time,” Bruce said.

 

Tony nodded as Steve sat up with Peter. “Steve, come meet your daughter.”

**Author's Note:**

> As I was rereading this right before posting I thought of a few things I might add, this might get a connected set of drabbles, depending on if I feel like writing them or not.


End file.
